


Dirty Biz

by elii



Series: Cyberpunk 2077 ft. trans man V [3]
Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: (with the exception of one side quest), Angst, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Drug Abuse, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Kidnapping, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kinda, M/M, Trans Male Character, Trans Male V, Trans V, mention of attempted kidnapping, spoiler-free, this deals with really dark subject material so PLEASE check the warning in my notes!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:40:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28292523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elii/pseuds/elii
Summary: After a particularly gruesome job, V finds comfort in an unlikely source.aka: exploring V's mental state after the side quest 'Dirty Biz'
Relationships: Johnny Silverhand/Male V, Johnny Silverhand/V
Series: Cyberpunk 2077 ft. trans man V [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2066223
Comments: 9
Kudos: 134





	Dirty Biz

**Author's Note:**

> _Warning!_ Everything that the side quest Dirty Biz deals with is also present here. If you haven’t played it, the side quest is essentially V being hired by the NCPD to steal a snuff BD of a child’s murder.

V kills the editors far faster than they deserve, shooting the dad first and then his weeping son. There were far worse ways to die than a shotgun slug to the stomach- they got off easy considering the shit they were profiting off of. He ignores the son’s weak cries for help as he walks forward, snatching the BD from the shelf and shoving it into his pocket. 

The pleads turn to garbles, the rattling of a dying man choking on his blood. V walks over him, pretending not to notice the way the dying man feebly reaches out for his ankle. His stomach churns as he leaves the room, forcing himself to focus only on the sound of his heavy boots clanging against the metal floor.

V had no qualms about killing the father and son, but that doesn’t mean he took pleasure in the violence. If he were a sicker man he would have drawn it out, given them both a taste of the pain and fear they bottled and sold so fucking casualty. Made them suffer like the people on their tapes had suffered. But V was a man connected to his conscious, it didn’t matter how deserving the person was- he wasn’t a sadist.

He had taken care of their security force on the way in, so the walk back to his car is anything but eventful. All of the bodies- except for the ones he left upstairs- have been stuffed away, completely out of sight. If this was a normal job, V would have knocked out the security and left them where they lay- moving in and out before they could regain consciousness. But this wasn’t a normal job, and in his anger, it felt easier to snap their necks then wait for them to fade to black. They knew who they were working for, and the way V saw it they were just as guilty as the fuck who scrolled those BDs.

The BD gets tossed in the dropbox, V’s wallet swells with new eddies, and the boy is still dead. All those boys are still dead. The sickest part of it is that V knows nothing will come from this job. It would take a case of divine intervention for even one of the kid-killers to get caught up. 

V parks up near the dropbox and sits for a while, his hands never leaving their white-knuckled grip on the wheel. His body was in his car, but his mind was still in that editing room, seconds before he got the editor's attention. The computer was the first thing he checked, his face pulled up in disgust as he listened to the pair comment on the BD they were editing. The file names didn’t point him towards the BD he had been hired to find, but that didn’t make them any less disturbing. 

He moves his head violently from side to side, trying to shake off the memories like a dog shakes off water. But the memories are dark and old and new, they cling to his mind like leeches- devouring his stability, sucking down the few ounces that remain.

It’s dark when he starts the drive back to Watson. Well, as dark as it can get in Night City, which is surprisingly unimpressive given the game. Most everything gets illuminated by something. The glow of cyber-enhanced residents, the neon lights of the sea of vending machines, the sprawling neon adverts that are impossible to escape. It was all V knew, and he detested it all the same. Consumerism had taken the night from Night City long before he was born, and he doubted that it was something that would ever come back.

_Flick_

The glance that V gives his passenger seat isn’t needed, he doesn’t have to look to know that Johnny’s sitting shotgun. It’s the smell of tobacco, the sizzle of Johnny’s holographic lighter blazing against the foot of his cigarette. Johnny snaps the lighter shut with a flick of his wrist and tosses it to the floor. It glitches away before it can hit solid ground.

“How old do you think that kid was?” V’s voice trembles as he speaks. Whether it’s with rage or fear he doesn’t know, but the feeling is swollen like the sea in his belly, inescapable. His jaw clicks together with every rough syllable he spits. “The one who was editing.”

Silence fills the car as he drives, Johnny taking a long drag. V listens as he empties his lungs, blowing pseudo smoke into the air around them. “Too damn old to be calling his dad ‘papa’.”

V’s throat feels like a desert, but his eyes couldn’t be wetter if they tried. He swallows against the sand, words almost getting caught in his throat. “Still a kid. What, eighteen? Nineteen?” Only a few years younger than V himself. And V put a bullet in his belly, left him choking on his own blood. “His old man got him into editing, the family fuckin’ business.” V runs his tongue over the cracks in his lips. “I’m no saint. Everyone in this fuckin’ city deals in vice. But that shit?” A pause. Quick, heavy breaths coming out through his nose. “S’fuckin’ different. It’s real fuckin’ different.”

V follows Johnny’s breathing as he takes another drag, his body relaxing as he feels the heat of smoke blow over his face. “Sure is.”

“Shit, the way they were talking about it?” V shakes his head, disgust curling his face up into a grimace. “It was like they didn’t see them as people.”

It doesn’t stretch V’s imagination to understand how those kids must have felt in their final moments. The weight of how easily that could have been him all those years ago is heavy in his mind. His ma had done her best to keep him safe after his shit father kicked her to the curb with nothing but the clothes on her back. She died when he was thirteen, ODed while he desperately banged on their neighbors' doors, begging for help. After she was gone there was no one around who cared enough to look out for him, to make sure he didn’t get snatched up by some bastard who got off on hurting kids. Life is different when you know that you could drop off the face of the earth at any moment and no one would notice when there’s no one left to call home.

Even if he had gone missing and someone started asking questions, V knew that nothing would have come of it. The NCPD didn’t give a flying fuck about some dirt boy from Heywood- there were plenty where he came from, that’s how they saw it. No profit in a case of a missing street kid, no way to spin some corruption and make some fast eddies. Bloody money doesn’t mean shit in Night City, V learned that long ago. It bought just the same as the rest. V doubted that there even was such a thing as clean eddies, there was nothing left that wasn’t stained in some sorta way. V scrubs at his eyes, one hand still locked onto the wheel.

“They didn’t even remember what boy I was talkin’ about.” V pulls his car to a stop, parking on the street opposite his apartment building. “Asked me to be more specific, that they ‘went through a lot of kid videos,’ too many to fuckin’ remember.” V doesn’t know why he’s telling Johnny this, his mouth working without his brain’s permission. It’s not like Johnny wasn’t there like he didn’t have a permanent, exclusive residence in V’s mind. “Most’ve them are probably kids from Heywood. Pacifica, maybe. Ones the cops don’t give a shit about.”

His hands are shaking as he unbuckles his seatbelt, rattling the metal clip. “It’s… it’s not fucking right.”

Johnny’s looking at him with something like understanding written between his features, but V only spares him a glance before he’s pushing his way out of the car, hands scrabbling against the handle. He can’t be in there anymore, but he can’t go back to his apartment either. It’s freezing outside, but the cool air feels good against his skin. Numbing. He spends the better part of an hour walking up and down the length of the street, pacing like a man gone mad. No one pays him any mind, this is probably the most normal thing they’ve seen all week.

He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, warming them up against his thighs through worn denim. His legs ache by the time he makes his way into the elevator, but his mind is as blissfully numb as his hands.

“City of dreams my ass.” V scoffs, thumping his knuckles against the screen. Nothing happens, not even a little glitch. A TV screen made from bulletproof glass, a fun little thing that V knew from first-hand experience. It was only his third week staying at his new apartment when some guys decided to get frisky with their firearms in the elevator. V managed to disarm one of them, but only after he sprayed bullets all over his choom. The guy was uninsured, of course. No trauma team scooting down from the heavens to save the bastard, whoever he was.

The elevator lurches to a halt, doors rolling open with no great protest, despite the rust. As he walks the halls back to his apartment, V finds himself thinking about Johnny. He was on V’s mind a lot lately, in more than just the literal sense. But even during the moments that V got to himself or at least the ones that Johnny chose not to appear in, were beginning to feel strange. It wasn’t like he wanted to feel Johnny’s heavy presence in his mind, reading his thoughts and taking up storage space. No, V wanted to see him. To touch him. When Johnny wasn't around, V… wished he was. Or at least he was starting to.

V groans, coming to a halt outside of his door. Was it even possible to miss someone you shared a mind with? V shouldn’t miss Johnny at all, he was just some glorified brain rot, slowly ending V’s life. He rubs at his temples, his face pulled up into a wince. He was far past trying to stave off a headache- that train had already left the station. But the soothing gesture did help ease the pain.

He unlocks the door with a heaving sigh, walking in and letting it roll shut behind him. Standing in the threshold, V watches Johnny appear. He’s facing the open window, his arms crossed over his chest. V liked to keep the blinds open, displaying Night City in all her neon glory.

“City of dreams.” Johnny’s voice is rough in V’s ears, but somehow it’s the most soothing thing he’s heard all day. Johnny doesn’t bother to turn as V approaches, taking a spot next to him. V’s eyes aren’t focused on the landscape, even when he nods in vague agreement. They’re fixed on Johnny- following the curve of his brow, the slope of his nose. Tracing the shape of his eyes, his lips, his chin. 

As much as it pained V to admit, Johnny was a handsome man. He could be more than handsome when the occasion permitted it and he wasn’t being a fucking nuisance. If there was a way to pluck out all the chaos from Johnny, V thought that he might even have a chance at being beautiful. 

“I’d tell you to take a picture,” Johnny says, snapping V out of his stupor. “But I doubt I’d show up on film.”

“Film?” V snorts. “Christ, how old are you?” He shakes his head, moving his gaze to the window instead of Johnny. Time passes in some way, though V isn’t sure how much goes by before he’s being steered towards the bed. The hands on his body are familiar, but they are far from gentle. Johnny pushes him until he falls against the mattress, sitting upright with his legs dangling off. 

His face pinches together in confusion as Johnny gets to his knees. V doesn’t want sex right now, it’s the farthest thing from what he needs. But Johnny’s hands don’t go to his belt, they go to his shoes. Deft fingers making quick work of his laces before tugging them off his feet. 

V’s mouth is parted when Johnny looks up. Their eyes meet. A strange feeling passes over V, settling heavy in his bones like radiation, making a home in his marrow. V was no stranger to Johnny’s hands, to his touch. They had fucked a handful of times already, but this felt different. It felt intimate. That’s what this was, right? Intimate. V teases the word with his tongue, rolling it around in his mouth. Yeah, it had to be.

The moment passes as quickly as it comes, and soon Johnny’s back on his feet, tossing V’s legs up onto the bed and shoving him until he’s lying on his side. V isn’t a thin man, and yet Johnny tosses him around like he weighs nothing. V exhales as Johnny slots himself against his back, his metal arm coming around to circle the small of V’s waist, pulling him closer against his chest.

V doesn’t know if Johnny sleeps, but he doubts it. He doesn’t eat or drink, and while he does smoke, V thinks it’s more out of habit than pleasure. V nuzzles the side of his face against his pillow, blocking out the lights from the city. It’s warm and for the first time in a while, V feels like he just might be safe. 

“Thanks,” He whispers, sinking deeper and deeper into soothing darkness. Johnny’s arm tightens its grip around him.

“Shut up, kid.” V closes his eyes to the feeling of Johnny’s lips against his ear. “Go the fuck to sleep.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah so this was super dark, but I hope you enjoyed this little character study thing! This side quest messed w/me so I just had to explore it some more. 
> 
> I thrive off kudos/comments & I’d love to hear what you thought! Even if it's just an emoji 🥰


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